


The Ongoing Crisis of Gabriel Reyes

by flinnfuck



Series: The Ongoing Crisis of Gabriel Reyes [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Kinda, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Now Fueled By Michael Chu-Related Anger!, Roleswap, SEP, She knows what she did, Young Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Young Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, basically i dumped my problems onto jack and then gathered gabe up in my arms and coddled him, blame sarah, gratuitous mention of pools, welcome to my shitty au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9477209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinnfuck/pseuds/flinnfuck
Summary: Gabriel Reyes has been a model soldier for all his (admittedly short) military career, and SEP shouldn't change that. If a particular LA blonde has anything to say about it, though, Gabe's calm, if monotonous, life is going to take a very sharp turn onto a very bumpy road.





	1. Something About Blue Eyes and Cornfields

The grass was green; not the dusty, yellowish green of Indiana, but something artificial. It crunched awkwardly beneath boots instead of parting naturally, and the morning dew seemed to be just as uncomfortable as Gabe was with it. He didn’t know where he was, exactly, but based off the time it took to get there and the surrounding landscape, it was probably still somewhere in the Midwest. Hopefully. If not, he’d have to write home and tell Ma he left without her. It was something they talked about sometimes; traveling was something Ma had wanted to do a lot when she was young, but then Gabe came around, and. Well.

 

Shaking his head to clear any melancholic thoughts and making absolutely sure he was standing straight, Gabriel strode forward with the type of confidence he could only exude when he was really, really nervous. First day of SEP. He would’ve liked to say he had at least a few years of service under his belt, but really, he’d been carted here straight out of Basic. The only good thing was, so was most everyone else he’d seen so far, though the fact that they were all top of their class dampened that little flicker of confidence. He was starting from the bottom. _Again._

 

With a huff Gabe turned his attention to the place he’d be spending the next chapter of his life.

 

The base was more of a metal dome than anything, shorter than the average one-story house, but with the fake turf Gabe got the feeling it went somewhat deep into the ground. If _that_ wasn’t ominous, the fact that the windows on the transport truck had been blacked out and there were no markings on the outside of the base definitely was. Gabriel was getting the distinct feeling that he may be in over his head, but nonetheless he marched onwards, jumping only a _little_ when a near-invisible door slid open at his approach. Cool air wafted towards him and, despite his reservations, he walked in.

 

He only knew one thing about this whole program; he was meant to report to Sector E. That knowledge was significantly less helpful when Gabe realized he hadn’t the faintest idea _where_ that was. Right, how was it he had gotten through four years of high school? Find a group of people who look like they know where they’re going and follow them.

 

Vaguely recognizing one of the other Privates from his group, Gabriel quickly fell into step with a small gaggle of men and women, all clad similarly to him; grey tee, regulation green BDU pants, thick-soled boots, and their dog tags. Like him, they all stared straight ahead, steps rhythmic and uniform. _This_ he was used to, following orders and making sure he looked as good as could be. Gabe wondered if SEP would be anything like Basic; there were no real stories to go off of, just idle chatter about people leaving squads with hardly a week of notice. He was going in blind, something he very much did _not_ like to do.

 

The halls twisted and wound, though that may have just been some awful combination of the still-suffocating heat and his nerves acting up. He wasn’t worried so much about finding Sector E as he was about what would happen once he _did._ Soldier Enhancement Program was a perfectly nondescript name, and with the mountain of “don’t tell anyone” papers he’d already had to sign he could only guess at what they’d be doing to him.

 

Four rights, three lefts, another right and exactly one step later (not even a set, just one individual stair), the group Gabriel had wormed into filed into a hall and stood at attention along the wall. _Alright,_ Gabe thought as he took up the rear, staring dead ahead at the almost worryingly clean white tiles, _guess this is it. Welcome to the future, Gabriel._

 

A light flickered forebodingly. Gabe swallowed.

 

It took exactly three seconds for the sound of shoes on ceramic to break the nervous silence. Gabriel swallowed around the lump forming in his throat, resisting the urge to look towards the sound; natural instincts hadn’t been _entirely_ beaten out of him during Basic. He inhaled slowly as the sound got closer, and then he could pick up the second, slightly faster set of footsteps. He let the breath out when the sources came into view.

 

The owner of the first and loudest set of shoes was...well, the nicest description would be _ghastly._ Alabaster skin stretched too tight around his features, not a blemish in sight, reminded Gabe of those old movies his Mama told him about, where a robot from the future disguised himself as a human. And killed everybody. Maybe he should stop thinking about that. The man’s cheeks seemed almost hollow, and paired with the dead eyes and plain navy blue suit he was the very picture of _terrifying dictator._

 

The woman next to him was significantly less horrible. Short, wearing a slightly-too-large lab coat and completely immersed in whatever was on her clipboard. So immersed, in fact, that she didn’t notice that her glasses were practically hanging off the edge of her nose.

 

Gabe refocused on the wall.

 

The man came to a halt towards the middle of the lineup, inspecting over his nose, looking at them with a haughty air. Gabe already didn’t like him; something about the plasticity, the way he held himself like he had the world under his thumb. It went against his Midwest sensibilities, he supposed.

 

“Recruits. I am General Williams.” When he spoke, it was like every propaganda film that had gotten Gabriel to join in the first place, “The next months will be the hardest of your life. This isn’t Basic, anymore, you’re with the big boys now. You will learn to talk, move, and fight like a true soldier.” He flashed a malicious grin. “ _Better_ than a true soldier. You will become unstoppable war machines. Not all of you will last.” Was he looking at Gabriel? He hoped not. “Not a word of this will ever be mentioned outside of these walls; as far as the rest of the world is concerned, this base does not exist. Understand?”

 

A chorus of “yes, sir!” rang out, echoed across the thin hallway. The man cracked a smirk and somehow his skin didn’t move with his mouth.

 

“Welcome to SEP.”

 

\----

 

He really wasn’t surprised when he and the rest of the squad were unceremoniously shoved into a pristine-looking medical pay and ordered to strip. Gabe complied--if a bit warily--and was immediately stabbed in the softer skin of his upper arm with a needle. The liquid inside was some hazy shade of off-white, but he didn’t have much time to question exactly _what_ it was before they were drawing a vial of his blood, slapping on a bandage, shoving his clothes into his arms and ushering him out the door once more.

 

Getting dressed in the middle of the hallway was rather awkward.

 

Especially with the small gathering of scarily muscular recruits standing outside the bay. Jesus, was _that_ what this program would do to him? He’d seen his fair share of beef, growing up on farm land and joining the military, but this was just plain scary--every single one of them could’ve crushed Gabe’s head in between their forearms without breaking a sweat, and the predatory smirk they all seemed to wear was not helping.

 

“Uh…” He definitely sounded cool and collected. It didn’t come out as a pained squeak. No sir.

 

One of the men chuckled, which goaded the rest of the group to snicker as well. Before Gabe could feel offended, though, he spoke up.

 

“What’s your name, kid?”

 

 _Kid._ These people couldn’t even be that much older than him! “Ah--Gabriel Reyes.”

 

A grunt of acknowledgement and the shuffle of paper as a sheet was handed to him. “That’s your schedule and your room number.” The man jerked his head to the side, a bored expression replacing any malintent on his face. “Mess is down that way. Try not to get lost, newbie.”

 

A younger Gabe may have gotten indignant, or at least sputtered out an insult. But that Gabe had given way to Good Soldier Gabe a long time ago, so he just took the sheet with a small nod and walked with measured steps down the hall towards the indicated double doors.

 

He was glad he’d already gotten used to people ordering him around and not expecting him to question it, because this whole ordeal already made him feel far, far out of the loop. Just what _was_ SEP? How many people had already been through this? And seriously, what the fuck did they inject him with?!

 

Gabriel shook his head. He signed up for this under the promise that he’d become a super soldier, he had no right to question the specifics. Taking a deep breath, he slowly pushed open the heavy metal.

 

There were already other recruits milling around, looking as happy as Gabe felt about being pushed around. Unlike Gabe, most of them were already loudly griping about it, gathered in packs along the long tables. Gabe felt a pang of jealousy; these people were already friends. It was his own fault for focusing all his energy on training while in Basic, for leaving behind his home for a chance to help everyone else, but it didn’t do much to dampen the ache.

 

He stamped the feeling down as quickly as it came. He wasn’t _here_ to make friends, he was here for the greater good. To become an unstoppable soldier, fight against the Omnium and terrorists and gangs and ensure that his family was safe. That’d been his goal for years, and he wasn’t about to veer of-course because of some flitting emotion.

 

Gabriel sat at an empty table without ceremony. He had work to do.

 

  
\----

 

Gabe pushed the doors open with a sigh. He’d stayed later than he intended memorizing his schedule. It was surprisingly simple--wake up at 6, report to Medical at 7, breakfast at 8, and training the rest of the day, save lunch and dinner. Hell, it wasn’t that different from his schedule back home, nor the one he followed in Basic.

 

Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult.

 

He was dimly aware of slightly-raised voices--well, _voice--_ as he traversed the halls, looking between his time table and the numbered rooms every few seconds trying to find number 86--his stuff, what little he had, should’ve already been dropped off. He turned another corner and had to do a double-take.

 

General Williams, in all his pale glory, looked _mad._ Considering Gabriel hadn’t seen even the barest hint of _any_ emotion on the man’s face during his induction, it was rather shocking. He was drawn up to his full height, at such an angle that Gabriel could see most of his red, twisted-up face but Williams wasn’t granted the same privilege.

 

Also visible from said angle was the subject of Williams verbal lashing--Gabe couldn’t make out the words, but considering the amount of spittle flying he could make a few guesses. The guy looked about Gabe’s age, standing maybe and inch shorter and clad in some weird variant of the standard-issue BDUs that Gabriel had never come across before.

 

He also had bright neon blue hair.

 

And was standing in front of Gabe’s room.

 

_Shit._

 

Ducking his head and keeping his hands by his sides, Gabe avoided any and all eye contact with _either_ party and marched towards the futuristic-looking door. Which brought him closer to the two men talking. Which flooded his ear with Williams irritated growl and--

 

“They were perfectly fine with it in my old squadron.”

 

It sounded like honey and cherry trees in full bloom. Gabe’s mind immediately conjured up images of cliff-sides and overhangs near noon and perfectly clear lakes shimmering in the sunlight, water warm to the touch. It was like every sappy romance novel he’d ever read and there was just a _hint_ of an accent Gabriel had never heard before and--

 

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._

 

“That is irrelevant, soldier--” _God_ he was so fucked, “--it’s not allowed here.”

 

“It’s a fashion statement!” No one should be allowed to sound that nice when they’re practically whining. It should be outlawed. If Gabriel was President he’d make it illegal.

 

“This is the military, not a damn catwalk!” Williams snapped back, clearly at the end of his rope. He huffed. “You’ll have to cut it off.”

 

“Aw _what?!_ ” Seriously. Illegal. “Are you kidding?!”

 

The General was _hissing,_ good lord, what beef did he have with this poor ( _enchanting, mesmerizing)_ guy? “No I am not, and you’ll do best to _listen_ for once in your life.”

 

Williams was off before the other man could voice another protest, but that didn’t stop him from muttering a few _choice_ curses and running his hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles and it was weirdly adorable with his pale complexion and _okay time to stop thinking._

 

The other soldier was _pouting._ Actually pouting, like a damn child, and it should _not_ have been so endearing. But it was, somehow, mixed with that sunshine face and ghastly hair and the awful, awful tan lines across his eyes and the ones revealed when the man crossed his--good _lord_ how does he have so much muscle--arms.

 

Gabriel blamed what happened next on fatigue.

 

“Y’know,” _What the fuck are you doing you moron,_ “You probably shouldn’t sass him like that.” _Oh well now he’s looking. Great. Good job. 10/10. Bet Ma’d be real proud._

 

Oblivious to Gabriel’s internal monologue of one, long, high-pitched scream, the man cracked a wide grin and Gabe’s tiny gay heart shattered into fucking pieces. He was going to die. First day of SEP and he was about to be taken out by a pretty white boy. His grandpa would roll in his grave and his _tía_ would probably no-scope his dead body.

 

“Hey,” _Oh okay he sounds even better when he isn’t being a bitch-ass punk this is fine,_ “He dissed the hair. I can’t let that slide.”

 

The hair was atrocious. Gabriel decided against saying that--luckily the other man seemed perfectly content to carry this conversation as Gabe tried to find some semblance of his usual model soldier charm and not just burst into flames looking at this man and--oh, now there was an hand being held out to him, okay.

 

“Jack Morrison,” _How is he grinning wider I don’t understand,_ “Looks like we’re neighbors.”

 

Ah. Excellent. That explained why he was standing in the hall; he must’ve been in room 76, just across from Gabriel. _Wonderful._

 

Still, Midwest manners forced his hand (hah) and Gabriel returned the gesture, making sure to keep a firm grip, and giving a small nod and what he hoped was more of a smile than a grimace. “Gabriel Reyes. Good to meet you.” _God I am absolutely fucked._

 

“You too.” _Seriously how is he smiling so wide without his face splitting?_ Hands dropped and the man-- _Jack,_ goddamn--glanced over his shoulder towards what Gabe now knew as his room. “I’d stay and chat but _apparently_ I have to go shave my damn head.” With that, he backpedaled for a moment before turning on his heel, jabbing at the access panel and opening room 76 with a _swoosh._ “See ya around, Gabi.” And then the door shut and the hall plunged back into silence, save the quiet whirr of the air conditioning.

 

“Fuck.” Gabe muttered under his breath as he opened his own door and stepped inside, making sure it was locked--per regulations--behind him. “Keep it together, Reyes.” He would _not_ be taken down by a cute boy. He just wouldn’t, or at least he told himself as he mindlessly stripped his clothes and put them in the laundry chute to be cleaned by someone, hopefully. The plain grey dresser revealed more standard, boring, bland clothes, all white shirts and grey pants; any mission gear would be special-issue, presumably.

 

Gabe changed quickly into something semi-casual--they were kind enough to provide sweatpants, at least--before ducking into the bathroom (plain white tiles, this place had the decor sense of a damn hospital) to brush his teeth and half-heartedly fix his hair. He’d shower in the morning--there was an hour before wake-up and his trip to the med bay, anyhow. Somewhat calloused fingers ran over his dark complexion; the _very cool_ soul patch he’d started in high school was slowly becoming formidable stubble--he’d have to style it, eventually. The only outward signs of his fatigue were lids half over dark brown eyes and the visible blood vessels in his sclera.

 

He huffed out a small breath and walked to his bed, refusing to let exhaustion take over his ever-vigilant body until he all but collapsed into bed, making a vague attempt to yank the scratchy blankets over himself before falling asleep.

  
If he dreamed about a sunshine smile and freckles like a dusting of stars, it was due to stress. Definitely stress.


	2. Seriously, Where Did You Get That Hat?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel...probably shouldn't have accepted the invitation. But hindsight is 20/20, and apparently Jack is less "terrifying military brute" and more "awkward ray of sunshine". So. That's a development.

“Fuck no!”

 

Frankly, Gabe had been under the impression that nothing would ever surprise him again when he was awoken the next morning by an obnoxiously loud alarm. He’d, reasonably, been upset by this, but still dragged himself off the bed and lazed his way through a real shower for the first time since before Basic. After that it was med bay, where they took another vial of blood and stuck a concerning number of wires into his skin with absolutely no explanation before shoving him out the door. _Again._ This was getting annoying.

 

So yeah, he kinda assumed surprise parties were now ruined forever.

 

Apparently SEP had no intention of letting him be right about anything, ever.

 

He was greeted at the mess hall by the same voice that he’d heard yesterday, all sunshine and peaches, and he couldn’t help but blink and look for the source. Some part of him had gotten convinced that the prior night was some sort of fever dream--

 

But nope, there, in all his white boy glory, was Jack Morrison, a grin on his face as he cussed out another recruit across the table he’d essentially taken over; for some reason it seemed the other privates were giving him a large berth, save the pink-haired girl he was speaking with. He was wearing a beanie now, Gabe noted, and he wondered if the guy had _actually_ shaved his head for a moment before wondering where the hell he got the hat. They didn’t exactly allow personal effects in such a secretive program, and _that_ was definitely not part of regulation wear.

 

He didn’t have much time to ponder before those ocean eyes were on him, _definitely not_ making his heart skip a beat because _goddamn_ they were just so _blue,_ swirling balls of color like the Mountain Bluebirds Gabe watched back in Indiana, when he was younger, more at peace. Gabriel felt like he could get lost in them without trying too hard.

 

“Hey, it’s boy scout!” Jack chirped, motioning with one hand to _come over._ Gabe blinked a few more times-- _alright he’s not a mirage--_ before awkwardly trotting over with raised brows and many, many reservations about getting too close to this goddamn beautiful man.

 

“Boy scout?” He said, praying he didn’t sound like an absolute moron. Jack just grinned.

 

“Yeah, you’ve got that whole,” He gestured vaguely at Gabriel’s form, “the whole Mama’s boy, teacher’s pet thing going on.”

 

Should he feel offended? Gabe felt a little offended.

 

“Aw, lay off him, Jackie,” The girl Jack’d been talking to chided, “You’re gonna hurt his feelings.”

 

Jack just chuckled, looking up at Gabe and patting the spot beside him. _Oh. Alright._ The recruit sat, reaching behind himself a moment to pull a food-filled tray off one of the carts dotting the mess. Jack flashed another winning, gap-toothed smile before looking back to the girl.

 

“But seriously, that fuckin’ hard light research is bullshit.” Gabe immediately felt like an intruder. He wasn’t part of this conversation, even if he’d technically been invited, and he definitely didn’t know anything about hard light other than it being some fancy new tech being researched by blooming corporations.

 

He busied himself with eating the (bland, spiceless) food as the girl--okay that’s _two_ scarily muscular people who haven’t even started injections, what the fuck--continued the debate.

 

“It’s _effective,_ though. They’ve tested it out on a shitton of heavy-duty armory and it just--” She gestured violently through the air, “ _Boom!_ Right through.”

 

“That’s not a good thing, Teo, and even if it was, they’ve _demolished_ half of Brazil for it!”

 

“Isn’t that just what we gotta do for progress, though?”

 

Jack scowled slightly--Teo must’ve hit a nerve. “Destruction for the sake of progress isn’t okay, not when it ruins people’s lives.”

 

Teo flinched slightly under his now-steely gaze before sighing. “Yeah, yeah, alright. You’re right.”

 

The man nodded, satisfied, face softening as he forked a bit of pineapple into his mouth. “You’re damn right I am.”

 

Gabe definitely did not jump when those blue eyes were on him again, burning hot as the sun despite their deceptively cool tones.

 

“Man, what crawled up your ass and died?” Jack uttered in a somewhat sarcastically, and--was that a hint of _playfulness_ in his voice?--while giving him what we kids would call an excessive amount of once-overs. Gabriel snapped out of the hazey wonder of the particular shade of blue before him and quickly averted his glance to the satanically clean floors. Wait no, that’s not what you do when you’re asked a question oh fuck.

 

“Hello?” Jack repeated, drawing out the _o,_ and the man was suddenly hovering close, waving an obnoxiously large hand _just_ close enough for it to be funny. “Earth to Reyes. Do you read me, Reyes?”

  
“Stop that.” Gabi managed, lightly batting away Jack’s hand with a swift movement of his arm. That huge trademark grin was plastered across that sunny, bright face as Gabi found his own face unwillingly mimicking the look. Damn stupid beautiful amazing fucker.

“I’m alright, just a bit--” He stumbled for the right words- _exhausted, mesmerized_ , _enchanted, extremely fucking tired, wait I think I already mentioned something similar to that-_

 

“I get it,” Jack finished off the thought, “New place, big scary, blah blah.” He paused, offering the most sincere look you can give someone while taking a bite of what is essentially a piece of cardboard. “You’ll fit right in, bud.”

 

Well fuck. If the earlier iconic commentary of Jack Morrison hadn’t been a thing to smile about than this sure as hell was. Dios, okay pull yourself together, Reyes. You are a soldier, not the star of a teenage rom-com. This is the real fucking world. The real world. And Gabriel had a friend in it, apparently.

 

“Glad to hear it.” Gabriel almost sentimentally recited his go-to line for the incredibly frequent situations where he didn’t know how to respond to commentary. This was just the one for positive things, it’s right up there with The Shrug, ’Sweet’, ‘Okay’, ‘Dios mio’, and the ever-favorite ‘Wow’.

 

“Well,” Jack nearly shouted as he rather abruptly stood up from the seat he was just priorly, you guessed it, sitting in. “Hate to ruin the moment, but I need to throw away this tray of food I pretended to eat.” He swiveled around on his heels for a moment before pausing and casting an unsure glance back at the table.

 

“Well I know you didn’t eat it, so you coming?” He asked, motioning his head in a fast jerk to the side, a human body language signal which has adopted the meanings of ‘come on then’ or ‘this way’. Gabriel snapped back into focus at the offer before him, feeling quite gay about the whole thing, but okay. Hell, this was great.

 

Dumping gross food and a tray in the trash was about as eventful as you could imagine, which I hope you understand means that it was not eventful at all, and rather boring. However, it was a blessing to be rid of that horrid, unseasoned pulp they had the audacity to call food and the two were silently grateful. Walking along side each other, they made their merry little way onto the one of the designated training rooms together, a comfortable silence settling in between the two as they stepped into the vast, vaguely populated room.

 

Arriving to training early isn’t necessarily a bad thing. However, with General Dick-Face around, any situation could easily become 64 times worse. Gabriel assumed the training was standard, the equal look of pure exhaustion on Jack’s face matching his own just an outcome of the fact that it was the first day. Williams didn’t do much, just stand in the corner with a holo-screen in hand, quietly observing and taking small notes. Similar to that of a shark evaluating its prey. The actual training itself being a fucking nightmare altogether. Several repetitions of basic muscular endurance exercises topped off with a 5 mile run after Every. Single. One.

 

But, it would get better, Gabriel told himself. _“Los primeros días pueden los peores días_ ” As Ma used to say. There was really no moral to that saying, in fact it was more of just a statement that Mondays fucking suck, but if today was the worst he’d been through here, then where else was there to go but up?

 

He was tired, first fucking day of training and he’s hoping, praying to whatever cryptids or gods out there for just the tiniest bit of pleasantness to come from his time here.

 

And the somewhat forced, yet still candy-sweet smile Jack offered him as they turned in for the night,

 

Yup

  
That’d do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hdfhsdhjasdf short-ish chapter
> 
> now that my age-old enemy, scene setting, is gone, i should be able to get updates out a lil quicker. i already have a small chunk of numero tres done and with sarah helping fuel my depraved poetic needs it's actually progressing rather quickly.
> 
> okay i can feel my eyes trying to shut and ive blinked out of the waking world a few times in the past hour so im gonna leave yall with my [tumb](http://gayscreams.tumblr.com/) and this lovely snippet of conversation:


	3. SEP Can't Afford Good Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SEP is weird, Jack's a mess, Gabe is too innocent and good for this fucking world.

Jack was decidedly melancholic in the morning, when he shaved the (patchy, irritating) scruff around his cheeks and under his chin, letting the (tacky, hopeful) soul patch just under his lip be, for now. 

 

The switch from black-ops to semi-regular military was...disconcerting. He’d read, at some point, that the reason PTSD was still steadily rising in veterans was due to the speed at which they were forced from a warzone to regular society, with all the advances in jump jets and cars. He supposed the same concept could be applied to himself; going from silent killings to regular training was a rather stark contrast, and considering half his files were redacted there wasn’t much anyone could do to help him.

 

He was on his own. Again.

 

_ Except Teo,  _ he reminded himself rather forcefully. He was too used to it, the empty loneliness. After all, he and Teo had only been on a team for what, a year? Before that he’d only been allowed on solo ops and intel gathering and his pink-haired comrade was busy with intensive training. He figured it was a habit, from the old days, just like how he flinched at every sudden sound and kept an unhealthy amount of sweaters  _ just in case.  _ Idly, he wondered if it was another one of the things he did that would last forever.

 

He huffed. No time for that. Well...actually there  _ was  _ time for that, considering he’d woken up a solid half-hour before the first alarms due to the usual night terrors, but he’d also managed to stare into his bathroom mirror for a large chunk of that extra time. Regrettable, but he was too tired to keep his damn thoughts in check. But worrying about the past and the future wasn’t gonna help no matter how much he wished it would, and with his luck it would just devolve into flashbacks he  _ really  _ didn’t want to deal with.

 

So instead, he let his thoughts drift the the day prior; collecting his thoughts would help. Probably. 

 

Other than fussing over his shaved head and scrounging a beanie from his box of contraband, the day had been…boring, which was  _ not  _ something he was particularly used to. Too many needles, not enough gunfire. It had been positively  _ dull. _

 

Until breakfast.

 

He thinks of Gabriel’s smile (bright,  _ bright _ ), after he made some stupid joke he can’t really remember, how he seemed almost startled by it like he didn’t expect the twist of his mouth. It was a little crooked, a little clumsy, faltering a bit like he didn’t know what to do with his face, and he didn’t hide it behind his hand because he’s not been taught that he’s not  _ meant  _ to smile, that soldiers aren’t supposed to feel things like happiness and sorrow so Jack got to see it all, the discolored cap of one of his teeth and the bit of tongue poking out from between his incisors and the way it took longer, than most people, for him to school his face back into something neutral.

 

Jack may have been ever so slightly (completely, totally) enamoured with the man.

 

The problem was, really, that he hadn’t felt anything like that in a very, very long time. Growing up in a strange mix of foster homes and park benches has a way of stunting (halting, wrecking) emotional development. The closest emotion he could compare it to would be how he felt with Teo, and she was his (former) captain, which added on a whole slew of feelings (respect, admiration, gratefulness).

 

He was…probably thinking too much into this. Especially since he hadn’t meant, at all, to think about the man other than in passing. There hadn’t been time for romantic pursuits in Apep Squadron, and there wasn’t going to be time in SEP. Did he even  _ like  _ men? Between homelessness and black-ops, he hadn’t exactly had much time to ponder the question of his sexuality. Or anything, really. He just sort of. Was. 

 

This was getting too philosophical for 6:43 in the morning. 

 

Sighing, Jack splashed some water (ice cold, apparently SEP had faulty pipes) over his face and turned off the faucet. Being able to look in the mirror every morning was...odd. In the squadron he’d been on undercover missions so often that, even when he had access to the things, he was decked out in too much synthetic skin to recognize himself. His regular face...wasn’t much better, all slightly tanned skin and freckles and stress lines and deep shadows that were at least 3 decades too early. The scar on his eyebrow was a reminder of shit (awful, horrid) times, and the one on his nose was a reminder that he just couldn’t  _ remember  _ some things.

 

Sometimes existing kinda sucked.

 

The rest of his morning routine was mechanical, strip off night clothes (sweats, no shirt), put on day clothes (more sweats, shirt and hoodie), lace up regulation boots, remember to shove the beanie on because he was  _ not  _ letting anyone see the mess that was his shaven head. The click of his door locking behind him was like a cell door being slammed (something he was worryingly familiar with), sealing his fate of attempting to pass as Human for another day.

 

Door 86 was like a beacon, and he found himself crossing the small hall and rapping his knuckles on the cool metal without really thinking about it.

 

Both Jack and Gabriel seemed surprised when the door opened, Jack’s hand still raised. He shoved it into his pocket rather awkwardly and turned his head, ears flushing.

 

“Uh--hey. I. Um. We have to be at med bay in a few minutes and uh. I was wondering if you wanted to go. Together.” Jack stuttered out, hunching his shoulders a bit.  _ Smooth move, X-lax. _

 

“Oh. Uh, sure.” Gabe blinked a few times, clearly put off, and Jack mentally cursed every god that thought it was a good idea to will him into existence. Still, the man stepped out and let his door click shut with an unsure (adorable, _fuck_ ) smile on his face and Jack let himself start down the hall, somewhat reassured by the slightly shorter presence beside him. 

 

The walk was silent, but not the awkward kind Jack usually found himself in. They both seemed to mutually agree that it was too early for any sort of casual conversation, and instead let the quiet whirr of the AC fill the companionable quiet.

 

Of course, they were separated the moment they stepped into med bay, set (shoved) into slightly reclined chairs and given some illusion of privacy via a thin curtain. The nurses and doctors weren’t fans of talking, Jack had discovered quickly, so he just laid back and let them draw blood and shoot him up with...something. He didn’t think they were The Injections, because those would no doubt have (painful) side effects, but that only added to the mystery of whatever the hell they were doing to him. 

 

That was all routine, though. What  _ was  _ new was the nurse leaving him there with only the gentle clink of curtain rings for company. He was about to get up (who needs a proper dismissal, anyways), when another figure tottered in. In his years of living Jack had gotten very good at reading people, and  _ this  _ person was not a medical doctor. She lacked the quaint softness, replaced by a stony stature that immediately set him on edge even as she made no move to harm him, just pulled a clipboard from under her arm and looked down at it over her glasses.

 

“John Morrison, correct?” Her voice was too close to the one he found on career torturers, all cool glass and sharp knives and unreasonable amounts of pain. He swallowed around a lump very suddenly in his throat.

 

“Yes.” He decided against correcting to Jack, probably would’ve just caused further tension and he knew better than to annoy people like  _ that.  _

 

She let out a small humming noise, marking something on the clipboard. Ah. This was analyzation, meaning they were likely getting a base of what the recruits were like before The Injections to compare with later. Jack had seen them do the same thing during various undercover missions in terrorist bases, testing  _ just how much  _ they could wreck someone’s mind and turn them into a pretty little soldier.

 

The similarities weren’t easing his tension in the slightest.

 

Jack had known, of course, the dangers that came with this program; being in black-ops had its perks. The files on the actually serums were heavily redacted, but he got the gist. Soldiers get shot up with drugs, hopefully become Big & Strong and rip apart the omnium with their bare hands. The need for discretion was…”heavily hinted at”, meaning there were several thinly-veiled death threats in both the original files  _ and  _ sent to Jack’s various quarters and safehouses after he got the information. 

 

He didn’t expect them to be so  _ obvious,  _ though. Closed-off med bay, mostly silent doctors, a literal underground bunker? He was pretty sure this was the textbook definition of a cheesy action movie. Then again, he was a blue-eyed, blonde-haired boy from California--he probably shouldn’t be dissing cliches.

 

The questions are boring, monotonous; Jack’s mind wanders.

 

Trust was a rare luxury in his life. He couldn’t actually remember ever trusting someone wholeheartedly; Teo was the closest it came to, and that was mostly because she’d seen him in so many states of emotional and physical distress it was impossible  _ not  _ to cling to her. 

 

But then there’s fuckin’ Gabriel. Clearly a farm boy, the goody-two-shoes type Jack usually hates wholeheartedly. But there’s something, low in his gut and his heart, that seems  _ pulled  _ to the damn man. The little voice in his head croons,  _ tell him, Jackie, about all the bad stuff.  _ He stamps it out, but can’t do much against the natural  _ trust  _ he’s putting in the man.

 

Emotions. Nasty.

 

At some point the not-doc asks him to take off his shirt and hoodie, and doesn’t comment on the non-regulation beanie that comes off with them. She eyes his scars with the faintest flicker of wariness, and Jack wonders if his missions are still classified or if he’s allowed to freak everyone out with the story of how he was almost eaten by a crocodile. He’ll probably tell it either way--they have to notice the oddly-shaped scars eventually, after all. 

 

Not-doc asks some more thinly-veiled invasive questions and finally lets Jack cover his damn tits up and saunter out with a cocky half-limp from sitting so long and a two-fingered salute. He thinks about waiting for Gabe but is spared when the man totters out himself, looking a little haggard but not like he’s gone twelve rounds with a Judas Cradle (a fairly unpleasant experience), so Jack chalks it down as a win.

 

“Was that...weird, for you, at all?” Is all Gabriel says in greeting, like they’re old friends. Jack can’t complain; he’s never been one for pleasantries, after all. The blonde just chuckles, smoothing a hand over his beanie and stuffing the other into his pocket.

 

“Yeah, ‘prolly means they’re gonna start a new phase of testin’ or whatever soon.” He drawls, mask of nonchalance rightfully in place. Gabe shoots A Look from the corner of his eye, but Jack’s not awake enough to analyze it yet and they both stay silent.

 

“Okay,” Gabriel finally snaps with the sort of soft frustration that makes Jack startle. “Seriously, where are you from? I can’t place your accent and it’s driving me insane.”

 

Jack blinks a few times at the shorter man, processing, before he lets out a small snort and covers it with his hand. 

 

“LA.” He finally manages, grinning. “But I moved around a lot, so my accent is kinda fucked. I spent nearly a year stationed in Texas, too.”  _ My life is a fucking mess,  _ he doesn’t say.

 

Gabe just hums a little, and when he doesn’t say anything else for a solid few seconds Jack decides to steer this conversation  _ far away  _ from his past.

 

“What time is it?” He had a watch, actually, tucked into the back pocket of his sweats at all times and practically indestructible, but. Eh. Checking the time yourself is for pussies. Gabe didn’t seem to notice the redirection, or just took it very gracefully, and pulled out what looked like a dumbed-down version of his own comm. Jack had probably been issued one as well, but the day he gave up his Betsy was the day he was lain to rest. 

 

“7:45, about.” Damn. Time really flies when you’re dissociating.

 

Jack clicked his tongue. “Whassat, fifteen ‘til breakfast?” Mentally, he started cycling through the day's schedule. “Wanna jus’ head down early? Maybe we’ll be lucky and they serve you actual food if you get there early enough.” 

 

The other man let out another one of his laughs, the same one where he seems surprised by the action, and nodded. Jack just grinned back and they managed most of the relatively short walk in the kind of comfortable silence Jack couldn’t remember being in in  _ years.  _ It was euphoric, really.

 

Naturally, Jack was extremely nervous about how this particular Good Thing would end.

 

But it didn’t. The world didn’t end or yank away this admittedly strange facet of hope, even as Jack held the door open for the man and followed him inside, even as they grabbed trays of stale-looking cereal and chat idly about things that didn’t matter. They sat at the same spot they had the day prior, Jack made the same shitty jokes, Gabe let himself  _ laugh  _ and he looked so damn relieved to be doing it that Jack just...didn’t stop.

 

He’d forgotten how nice it felt to be happy and make someone else happy. 

 

Maybe the universe would let him have this, just this once.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *snaps fingers* emotional constipation
> 
> im 99% sure i wrote half this chapter while getting _amazingly_ high so uh, yeah that happened
> 
> sorry this took a while to get out but i wanted it to be longer than the others bc im am b a d at that  
> anyways, next chapter's probably also gonna be a Jackie one so prepare for more repression/lazy poetic about gabo's smiles
> 
> heres my [tumb](http://gayscreams.tumblr.com/) and ill leave yall with more awful conversation i have while writing
> 
>  
> 
> **karkat-2/8/17 at 3:06 PM**  
>  suuure  
> mr. i want the reaper to crush my head with his thighs
> 
>  
> 
> ****p i s s-2/8/17 at 3:06 PM****  
>  dONT CALL ME OUT LIKE THIS

**Author's Note:**

> this is a garbage fire


End file.
